Nordic spring

Edith Södergran: Poems

All my castles in the air have melted like snow,

all my dreams have flowed away like water,

out of everything I have loved I have but little left;

a blue sky and some pale stars.

The wind passes quietly through the trees.

The emptiness rests. The water is still.

The old conifer stands awake and thinks

of the white sky he kissed in dreams.